


Only Fair

by Hyacinthium



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Killing Game (Dangan Ronpa), Eventual Smut, Fae & Fairies, Fluff and Angst, Gardens & Gardening, Humor, M/M, Pre-Game Personalities (New Dangan Ronpa V3), mature themes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-06-03
Packaged: 2020-02-28 05:11:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 12,565
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18749683
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hyacinthium/pseuds/Hyacinthium
Summary: Life after Danganronpa going bankrupt is a slog. That's just what Shuichi thinks and knows, especially after he ends up living alone with only his merchandise for company. Starting up a gardening hobby was supposed to be enrichment. An activity not related to eternally canceled Killing Games.Shuichi’s gardening kick certainly leads to enrichment, if one can call it that. It begins with a large caterpillar, eating his tomato plants, and spirals into cohabitation from there.





	1. Pupate

**Author's Note:**

> Heeey, it's been a while! I had some trouble with med side effects and general business. But now I return to the writing groove. Now with 100% more fairy Kokichi! 
> 
> I must warn you that this will have pretty kinky smut and that my plans for it are in line with what I usually write. Just not soul crushing type stuff, I guess? Fairies are pretty fun... But also kind of scary. Plus it's just not pregame unless things are a bit fucky =0

Saihara Shuichi dislikes spring, and he especially hates summer. The heat is more murderous than his favorite show. Not that Danganronpa exists anymore, having gone out with an embezzlement scandal some years ago. Life has gotten just a bit more boring since then. It's part of the reason why Shuichi has picked up new hobbies. One of which has forced him outside into the heat. 

Gardening is a strange route for an otaku to take. Still, Shuichi likes being able to save cash just by having some potted plants on his balcony. However... 

It seems that his garden balcony is in danger. Last night had been full of strange sounds, like snapping plant stems, and he'd written it off due to sleep. He's now awake enough to worry about it. At noon, but that's besides the point. No one can blame a lazy rich kid for sleeping at four AM. Shuichi isn't even lazy either. Risking his neighbor getting pissed at him isn't very appetizing either. Especially when half asleep.

Having shrugged on a short sleeved button down and some shorts, Shuichi trugs his way out from his bedroom and through his living room. For a moment he pauses in order to stare at the sheer lack. Zero clutter meets his gaze, just a bare carcass of an apartment. 

Living as empty and dreary as usual then. He rolls his eyes and finds comfort in his merch. That, at the very least, fills up his bedroom just fine. 

The man shambles onwards towards the balcony door and gulps- shoving himself into daylight after a breath. 

Moments pass.

Keen eyes narrow as sweat beads up from pale skin. Shuichi groans at the sight of absolutely devastated tomato plants. He brings a hand to his head and grimaces at how oily his hair is already becoming, but the man walks over to inspect the damage anyway. All but one of his three tomato plants are totally stripped of leaves and fruit. Even some of the stems are cut off or utterly gone. Large and small bites betray the culprit to be some kind of bug. 

But, hands tracing along ruined plant matter, Shuichi soon finds that the eating frenzy has even extended to the main stalk. 

He frowns angrily and leans in to see what almost looks like dry patches around the bites. The man huffs out an incredulous laugh, wondering if there's some kind of vampire bug that targets tomatoes. A moment passes as he mourns for the things. Getting a nice harvest of tomatoes definitely isn't going to happen. Shuichi sighs, and quietly thanks his lucky stars that the pest didn't eat anything else. One of his tomato plants is still safe too, so-

A loud snap invades the man's solemn silence. 

"Oh for... fucks sake, I'm going to kill you! You're going to be ex-executed for this heinous crime you little-" Shuichi hisses slowly, body whipping itself around, voice hoarse from days of no talking. He springs up onto his feet and lurches towards his remaining tomatoes, "Where are you? What the hell are you, I'll pin you to something you bastard!"

Fumbling hands, Shuichi’s whole body trembling from inappropriate anger and grief, thrust themselves towards the still thriving plant. He's definitely not feeling itchiness in his eyes. Of course not, Shuichi doesn't have issues with getting overly attached. Gold darts from leaf to leaf as fingertips roughly-carefully push aside leaves. Then the man freezes- his heart rate calming and his breath ceasing for a moment. 

Caterpillar is his very first thought on what he's seeing. Again, he thinks that single word. Following it 'large', because the thing looks at least eight inches, and then Shuichi’s eyes fully take in how beautiful it is. The man likes to think that he isn't weak for prettiness. Unfortunately for him, the caterpillar is absolutely gorgeous- mostly white with patches of pearly iridescent going down its back. Shuichi has no idea how he missed the fat grub or the bright royal purple fluff covering it. 

But the damage is done and Shuichi can't be angry at the thing. His mind is already making cooing noises. 

Am I really going to adopt a murderous insect, he wonders. The caterpillar twists it's body to reveal what almost looks like a horse and a crown as drawn by a drunk. It reminds Shuichi of his Danganronpa chess set. Yes, the man decodes from his emotions, fuck the tomatoes. His new pet can eat all of the plants ever. 

That's when Shuichi notices weird webbing coming out of the plump wiggle happy bug. 

"Ahhh, that explains it then? You binged to make a cocoon... " he murmurs, leaning in until the tomato leaves brush his face. Shuichi pouts at his hopes of a pet being dashed across the rocks. 

Butterflies have to fly away in order to live life to the fullest... 

Shuichi stares at the caterpillar as it clumsily weaves itself a long-term sleeping bag. It's oddly soothing to watch the strange thing go to work. Much more entertaining than essays or reruns. He chuckles, sitting down on his balcony with his legs crisscrossing. The man reaches for his back pocket and grabs his phone. Weird things like this don't happen often, especially not in ways that make him feel like he's learned some kind of cosmic lesson. 

Empathy for bugs, maybe? Wrinkling his nose, the man takes a few pictures and then sets the camera to record. He begins to narrate what happened as though it was much cooler than it was. Not that anyone will ever see this video. 

Although there is a chance that this bug of his is some rare species. Shuichi considers it and laughs, "You're lucky that you're actually pretty. I'd probably have tossed you off from the fifth floor otherwise, mister... Ouma."

The caterpillar pauses for just a split second, sunlight making those pearlescent spots glimmer like gemstones. It hangs in the air, from a very sturdy stalk, it's head raising to taste the air. Not that Shuichi knows if the fluffy worm thing can actually taste at all. But it soon returns to going around and around while web-like gossamer obeys it. Shuichi feels oddly humbled as he watches. 

His ability to maintain a decent fansite suddenly feels much less cool. 

Don't caterpillars totally liquefy in their cocoons? And then like, reassemble into butterflies? The thoughts press into Shuichi's consciousness and whirl around. He's never really considered it before but... Butterflies are kind of hardcore if he's remembering correctly. Maybe he should re-watch Season Forty-five's Ultimate Gardener's execution again. Shuichi can't remember exactly what the mechanism was, but she definitely got treated to some butterfly style metamorphosis. 

Maybe he should actually read books instead of learning everything from a dead franchise. 

Shuichi stops recording the caterpillar and hums thoughtfully, checking the time as he ruminates, wondering. He's still upset that Season Fifty-three was canceled just after auditions. Even though it's been almost a decade since then too. Danganronpa might not deserve his loyalty anymore. It's not like he's still sixteen and spending all his allowance on merch either. 

"Naaah," he murmurs playfully, going to his home screen in order to gaze at Kirigiri in a suit. She subtly glares at him with a high ponytail making sure that everyone knows she means business.

Beads of sweat start to slip down his back a few minutes later. Shuichi grumbles, rubbing at his forehead and whining deep in his throat. He's forced back into the present. The present which is sweltering in all the worst possible ways. Shuichi is too oily to withstand even springtime heat. A shame that the sun is making him wilt more than any plant now. 

Grinning despite the fact that he's already drowning in sweat, Shuichi pushes himself up from the balcony and takes one last peak at his caterpillar. Ouma is still working away at spinning that cocoon. It's weird to watch but not off-putting at all. Shuichi looks down at his phone and ends up snapping a few more pictures just because he can. He'll have to come out and clean up later. A stupid amount of work- but a job that he's no longer upset about doing. 

There's finally something fun happening. Something mysterious, intriguing, and genuinely cool. He almost feels like a little kid getting excited over catching bugs. Not that Shuichi would do that now. Really, he's a mature adult way above wanting to catch beetles…

Mature adults don't really live off of their rich parents though. He definitely has to admit that. Gold eyes roll and Shuichi grunts while he slips back inside. Cold air immediately assaults him with blessed relief. 

"Everything sucks and I hate this, ahhhh!" he whines to himself. A hand flies to his bangs and pushes them back. Shuichi is just as sweaty as imagined, and the man groans profusely. It's only one in the afternoon too. He eyes the digital clock on his stove and glances at the fridge.

A moment later and he's forgoing a meal in favor of grabbing a handful of blueberries. Shuichi just shoves them into his mouth. He's too sweaty to do something like slaving away on a hot stove. People as heat sensitive as him are best taking showers instead, he muses. What he should do is go take that shower, followed by putting on deodorant and antiperspirant, and then go back out to watch that weird caterpillar and it's funky grub body.

Laughing, the man considers looking up what species the thing is. It really is suited to the name 'Ouma' after all. Not many caterpillars should have such distinct patterns. 

It almost looks like something out of an anime, what with the almost eerily well designed crown and horse. A vivid royal purple paired with white, fluff and gem like patterns, a pitch black underbelly; Shuichi would think any picture to be photoshopped if he saw one online. He snickers at the bubbles of unearned pride that lurk in his chest. Maybe he's a little too happy about this. Finding an unknown breed of butterfly while living in Tokyo is impossible anyway. 

What would he even do with that? 

Shuichi walks into his bedroom and sets his phone onto his wireless Monokuma charger. His eyes dart over to his many Kirigiri figurines, and then he checks for dust. Finding none prompts him to smile and leave the room. Not like he can take a shower with with his beautiful merch. That would just ruin them, and he can't endanger his babies like that.

Yawning, the man slowly realizes that he's only been awake for... The entire time he just spent watching the caterpillar. He grimaces and shuts his bedroom door. 

He's not living with his parents anymore, at least. The only person who would judge him is that asshole neighbor of his. Not that Shuichi dislikes the loud, blithering, delinquent that wears a disgusting amount of hair products. Oh not at all, just like how he doesn't at all want Momota to corner him and grin like a bloodthirsty shark. Definitely nothing like tugging rough at his hair and double nothing like slowly rubbing his thumb across Shuichi’s soft lips. 

"Fuck, I hate Momota so much."

It's an empty sentence that echoes into Shuichi's bathroom. Like a curse too, gritty despite how flat it falls. Both the sentiment and emotional sediment are lacking weight. He most certainly does not hate his neighbor. All of them are pretty nice to him. Even if the hot one is a loud asshole with not one polite bone in his body. 

Shuichi pouts and glares at his reflection before getting undressed. Hopefully the bug will still be there when he's washed. Caterpillar, he eventually corrects himself. The shirt and shorts are tossed onto his bed while his boxers remain in one hand. It's a short walk to the bathroom, and the windows have blinds too. A cough later and Shuichi is peeking out from behind his door. 

"Not like anyone else lives here," the man murmurs against wood. Gold eyes narrow and dart from place to place. 

But he's alone- as expected. Shuichi preens and power walks his way over towards the bathroom. He ignores the prickly feeling of embarrassment in favor of basking in… no longer living with anyone. A potent drug. 

It only takes him about ten minutes to clean off last night's sleep and today's sweat. He leaves the shower feeling like a whole new Saihara Shuichi, and then spends ten more minutes on his face. Summer is truly the worst time for oily people. Of course, spring is not much better. 

Yawning and stretching marks his return to his bedroom as well. He eyes what he was wearing. Just a plain blue shirt with white pants. Absolutely boring even if not his typical gray-black-navy. Then again, Shuichi can barely remember what he has in his closest these days. One distinct possibility is then man finding his old school uniforms. 

"Really hate living here," Shuichi mutters, grabbing the button down and beginning to shove himself inside of it. Coffee would be nice and comforting right now. That's his main thought, alongside useless murmurs like, "I should go check the site and see if people have stopped making ranking threads… maybe they'll do more role-playing?" 

Ten minutes later and he's heating up leftovers. Omurice is good for the soul and there's no reason to waste it. 

Not to mention how he gets to head back outside. Like a triumphant return, Shuichi yanks his plate of of the microwave and rushes back onto his balcony. It's hot enough to make his once more clothed body wilt. But he resists the urge to run back inside. 

Ouma the tomato killing caterpillar is probably the least boring thing in his life right now. 

Shuichi giggles almost maniacally as he returns to his previous spot. It takes a second to find the little caterpillar. Within that moment, Shuichi realizes that butterflies don't make cocoons at all. Only moth caterpillars do that. He stares at his bug friend in silence. Not being able to see the thing hatch is oddly daunting. 

"Uh, hey there mister bug? Miss bug, bug- you better not suddenly go poof before I get to see what you look like," the man gloomily demands, voice quiet and weak. 

Maybe he can buy a camera or-

A familiar voice calls out to him, "What the hell happened to your fucking plants?" 

Gold eyes widen and Shuichi turns to face his neighbor, their eyes meeting momentarily. Shuichi’s mouth opens up just in time for his vocal cords to put forth a questionable noise. 

"I thought I told you not to invade my balcony?" the man eagerly mumbles.

Glaring, Momota huffs and shoves a stick of gum into his mouth. The man is merely standing on his own balcony. In truth, the fact that their balconies are barely a foot away from one another comes off as threatening. Not that Shuichi actually knows the distance. He just knows that Momota has a heavy presence that ruins any attempt at privacy. Perhaps Shuichi should set up a vine wall. 

"Look man, I just like smelling the lavender in the morning!" Momota sarcastically says. He exhales and enthusiastically chews his gum. Loudly. 

Frowning, Shuichi obeys the itching of his back by standing up. 

"Anyway… what the fuck happened to your plants? You really seem to love the things, which is uh," the other man rubs his neck awkwardly, "Pretty shitty since something straight up ate the things."

"Howard and Cecil have names you know."

They do in fact not have names, but Shuichi’s brain refuses to listen to Momota's gardenless splaining. He huffs sadly while withstanding the sweltering sun. It might be around seventy-five degrees out. Absolutely despicable. Confused mauve eyes stare into Shuichi's soul. Utterly horrible. 

Shuichi turns around and marches towards the balcony door, "Also you chew like a cow!" 

"Excuse me?!" the other man demands.

Only for the door to figuratively slam in his face- Shuichi’s body leaping inside far before either of them get to see the way his hands start to shake excitedly. Although, Ouma will have to wait a bit longer for his attention. Thrumming with energy, his hands now playing with the hem of his shirt, Shuichi darts towards his study and laughs wholeheartedly.

Life might be more exciting than he gives it credit for. 

Now he just has to make sure that it lasts.


	2. Tír na nÓg

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuichi adapts to life that includes a very snug caterpillar. This, unfortunately, entails the much dreaded social interaction scene. Not to mention some... Other changes.

It's been almost an hour since Shuichi entered the gardening section of his local home goods mega-store. Only that much time, but it feels like he's been walking these shiny white floors for days. Shuichi whimpers and exits an isle filled with rabbit repellent. Rabbits don't even exist in busy cities- yet here he is. Looking at bags of anti-rabbit warfare. The man hugs his future purchases closer to his chest. 

He only wanted to get in and get out. But no. Now he's trying cradle a huge clay pot full of other things. Like a giant bag of soil. 

"Excuse me, I'd like to uh… buy these. The soil and the plants too I mean," Shuichi mutters while his hands tighten around the pot in his arms. He tries to ignore the way his hat slides back. 

Of course the one pot would break during clean up. Gulping, Shuichi’s eyes flicker from his items to the employee. Said cashier gives him that painted on done with life smile before grabbing the large pot from his grasp. They set it down on the counter, and Shuichi quietly removes the things inside of it. It's the cheat code he had prayed for. Putting things in the pot had just made it heavier. 

At least he has everything now. 

"That'll be," the man begins, not even finishing his cashierly spoken sentence before Shuichi shoves his credit card right up into the scanner. Cashier number sixty-seven blinks, "Thank you for your purchase? Would you like a receipt?" 

Shuichi laughs too loudly and too sharply, "N-noooope! I'm good. Just bag it up. Please."

Uneasy staring ensues for the thirty seconds it takes for things to get bagged. After that there's a scramble for both men to disengage. Shuichi grabs his new belongs, two different kinds of cherry tomatoes and required paraphernalia, and promptly dissociates his way home. 

Last time he'd gone there was a tango of overly friendly employees. This time it's a tale of him getting mentally lost from a lack of interaction. He should probably just give up at this rate, Shuichi decides while huddling into his bus seat. Most of his shopping is already done online too. All he wants to do is make sure that his plants are okay. Going to the store itself is only for the sake of check out the plants. 

Golden irises stay locked onto vibrant foliage the whole journey home. 

Only a week has passed since the caterpillar, now officially named Ouma, decided to murderize his garden. Shuichi is a merciful and arguably dumb man though. He has solidly decided to make an allowance based on the grub looking cool. Not that looks matter anymore. The moth caterpillar is now nothing other an ugly brown cocoon. 

Which is fine too, because Shuichi has spent days looking at how cute moths are. They can even rival butterflies in the beauty department. Such interesting designs cannot be beaten. 

Those are the thoughts that accompany Shuichi as he lowers his burden onto the balcony itself. He feels as though he's soaking, but all he can do is collapse onto his patio chair and pray that Momota doesn't pop into existence. Narrowed eyes drift over to the adjacent balcony. Both of the structures are a matching if flipped design. 

Momota's balcony has a wall on the right side. Shuichi’s has a wall on the left. There's only a foot or so between them. It's as if the building is designed with annoyance in mind. Forcing the two men to interact whenever they happen to go outside. Even otherwise too, because Momota can definitely see all of Shuichi’s plants. Just the same in how Shuichi sees all of the clothing hung out to dry. Or the way that galaxy print slippers get tossed onto… 

A weary sigh accompanies Shuichi’s eyes closing. 

"Baby moths sure do have it easy," he mutters. 

The past few days have been abnormal for him. He's be getting up and rushing around just to get things done. For, if he's honest, both the sake of it and because he's having fun. Gardening didn't capture this much motivation, but here Shuichi is- running around for something as transient as a moth.

Shuichi has spent hours on caterpillars too. Learning so much that his brain stops working. It all seems unnecessary in an enjoyable way. Everything is just focused on feeding the little buggers. The man doesn't want to start a butterfly garden though. Don't touch the cocoon, don't help the butterfly out, and that's kind of the gist of it all. 

Unless he goes into the life cycle part. Which is honestly depressing, but Shuichi guesses that that's life. Butterflies and moths don't get to live very long.

Humming, Shuichi opens his eyes and leaves his chair. The white chair grits against the patio as he does. Soon he's sitting in front of the tomato plant and stealing a glance at the cocoon. It's part of how his days have changed. Now he stays outside even after tending to his garden. Each day, coffee and food in hand, ready to relax and watch some reruns on his phone or laptop. 

Caterpillars aren't very active creatures when they're busy growing wings. It still isn't boring though. Narrating Dangan Ronpa in the privacy of his balcony is fun. Lately, being outside is almost comfortable. 

Especially since it almost feels like the cocooned bug is listening.

A hand reaches up to an almost ragged hat and gently sets the thing onto light gray tile. Stone, and not something that Shuichi usually pays mind to. Now he's stuck glancing around just to see if more bugs have managed to get onto the fifth floor. But more than that is how he's finally noticing how much of the city he can see. He's the type to get selectively blind in favor of his electronic devices. 

Far away enough for the air to not be too gross, close enough to see high-rise skylines, Shuichi’s eyes linger on the clouds drifting by. A stubborn winter chill blows past him. 

Just a week has already shifted his focus. Honestly, he's considering some things too. Bugs and plants aren't what Shuichi thinks about as interesting. Not until relatively recently anyway. Danganronpa and detective stuff have always taken his focus for a long time. It feels strange to have a hobby that's only tangential in relation to the show. Maybe he's maturing, the man sarcastically thinks while removing his phone. 

White and black with familiar red. 

Turning on the Special Anniversary TV Adaption of the first Dangan Ronpa game, Shuichi prepares himself for narrating the events to his bug. Only fifteen minutes of the current video is left. After that he can head in to grab some rice balls for lunch. 

It's oddly nice to be outside like this. 

Ouma might not be able to hear of anything but hey, it's fun and Shuichi is satisfied.

Golden eyes glaze over as a familiar rendition takes over. Pale fingers unclench from their tight grip on rose gold colored metal. Lavender hair flows, Togami is exposed as an asshole yet again, and the first crazy Serial Killer's tongue slobbers in high definition. All in accordance with Shuichi’s age old memories. Makoto's voice rings out as he exposes the culprit of Trial Four- all while Shuichi himself explains what Ouma obviously can't see. 

Not that the bug can even hear but that's besides the point. 

"And that's why you don't trust girls that wear claws on their fingers," Shuichi finishes. He taps out of the streaming app and yawns, "I'll be right back…" 

He doesn't get right back. Perhaps it's a consequence of him not eating right. Maybe it's because Shuichi is dehydrated too. The moment he finishes eating his amateur rice balls, all while finally surrendering to the reality of his own sweat, the man is half asleep. All he can do is stare at the table and feel his head nod. 

It's not quite sudden for him so much as it is a creeping ambush. The man wants to go back out, because Momota isn't home yet, but doesn't. Shuichi understands that his body has made its choice. He groans quietly before pushing himself up. Pale hands grab hold of an empty plate just as he stumbles over to the kitchen sink. White ceramic clicks against the basin, but Shuichi can't even cringe from the sound. 

For a few seconds he merely stands and watches nothing happen. Then he realizes that he seems to oscillating slightly. Shuichi’s eyes twitch, and he makes the choice to not wash his dish. 

The rice balls were good. Even the lingering taste of pickled plum is nice. Shuichi can't imagine that he accidentally shoved poison into his own cooking. Messy, because he's a spoiled rich boy, but not such a culinary disaster as to cause death. His hands brace themselves on the counter as his knees slowly start to stop. Stop feeling or stop pretending to exist- the man isn't sure.

Gulping, Shuichi closes his eyes and tries to ignore how itchy the nape of his neck is. 

Feeling irrationally and yet undeniably watched. 

Shuichi can only call it that.

A strange sinking feeling as well, curling inside of him. Scraping against his bones in a much more familiar way. He can recognize and understand things like soul deep depression and anxiety. Even the paranoia settling between his shoulder blades. But, staring down at lifeless metal, Shuichi has never before felt something with this kind of surety. 

No one is behind him when he glances back.

On each that Shuichi can very easily accept though. He leans forward into the sink and groans, gold eyes wide while confusion races through him. Nothing remotely like this has happened in years. Excusing himself from copious social interaction has fixed him. Shuichi slowly breathes in and out as he calms. 

Everything else he needs can just be ordered online, he decides.

Pushing himself up only happens after a few more minutes. Shuichi tries to ignore what just happened and checks his phone. Nothing that looks important, but he tells the mods that he'll be gone for the rest of the day anyway. One person jokingly gives him congratulations on getting a date. Finding himself unable to laugh is disorienting. He drops the smartphone into a pocket and darts out of the kitchen, past the empty empty empty dining and living rooms, and soon tosses himself into his bed.

There's a handful of minutes where Shuichi is lingering in between wakefulness and unconsciousness.

Just laying on his stomach with his arms halfway reaching for a Kirigiri alpaca plush. Golden eyes staring at plain plaid covers, down to the side right on top of boring white bed sheets. There really isn't anything personable in this place, he thinks, because everything is so generic or something that isn't really mine either. It's the same as anything else though. 

Maybe he should buy more merchandise after all. Just go full otaku, unrepentant, and sleep under five Kirigiri blankets. But Shuichi cringes from that idea. Regardless of how his parents forced him to sell most of his merchandise... It feels strange to imagine owning nothing but Danganronpa stuff.

Eyelashes flicker. Eyelids slowly meet. Everything starts to cease, liminal space switching back to a binary.

Weight shifts beside him and Shuichi lurches back into being awake, panicked even when he realizes that he's alone in his bed. He can still swear that he saw a hint of a person. Someone in the corner of his eyes, intently looking at him while being drowned by black fabric.

"Oh my god, oh God, Kirigiri-san I'm being haunted- Jesus Christ what did I do to deserve this?" Shuichi hisses uselessly. His fists grapple with the covers beneath them.

Someone sucks their teeth in right next to his ear, sounding young, "You taste good."

After that there's only the Shuichi waking up, convulsing slightly while he turns himself onto he back. He feels perfectly normal despite how fast his heart is racing. Tired still, but not to the point that he's collapsing. Shuichi reaches down towards his pants pocket and checks the time in his phone. Pickles of feather light touch remain on his neck. Yet trying to remember anything results in failure. It's three AM, Shuichi feels remarkably stuck, and all there is to do is lurk. 

Eyes full of nervousness stare up at the ceiling until the sun rises.

That's how the next month or so passes for him. Shuichi wakes up and showers as usual. He gets chills when waking up at night. Daily does he watch his two new tomato plants grow and buys Lemon Balm on a whim. Most importantly, he walks Ouma through the franchise that owns his mind. In fact, as odd as it seems, Shuichi ends up growing less uncomfortable with the occasional trespassing. 

It might be the case that Momota is both sexy and likeable. 

Momota's remarks about the bags under his eyes can fuck off though. It's not like Shuichi can't sleep at all. He's just getting really sensitive to noises again. 

Yeah… 

Shuichi sighs down at his keyboard and clicks back to his fansite. Nothing but ranking and- wow someone is ranking characters based on eyebrow thickness. Logging out of his administrative account and onto his lurker account, the man posts a quick 'Kirigiri is best girl because of her aristocratic eyebrows!' which soon vanishes under a sea of comments. The trouble he goes to just to spread giri-stan rep. 

A beep breaks his concentration and makes him glance down. The screen of his phone has a single alert on it. 

Gold eyes stare into it just before Shuichi laughs. He's a bit obsessive, so it should be expected for him to buy a camera just for the cocoon. Ugly in color but certainly hiding something beautiful. Shuichi hums, scratching his chin, and leans back. The prospect of coming home to find a missing or damaged Ouma is scary. 

Being on the fifth floor didn't save his tomato plants, so why would it save his caterpillar? Shuichi pushes his luxurious office chair back and stands. He slowly stretches, leans down in order to ban someone, and finds satisfaction in how his spine seems to pop. 

He sighs while gazing at his desk. The man notes that the study is less empty than the rest of the apartment. Save for Shuichi’s bedroom of course. Even so, the room feels bare like everything else. Buying the occasional gardening item hasn't done much of anything for that. 

The man frowns at his Hinata mouse pad and shuffles awkwardly. A second passes before he slips his phone into his hoodie. Shuichi turns away from the desk before stomping his way towards the living room. 

It's still raining out. 

Will the tarp be enough, the man worries while shifting from foot to foot. The weather report estimates storms all throughout the month. Momota has laughed about it, and called him paranoid earlier, but Shuichi can't say that his tarp idea is a bad thing. It should protect his plants and the caterpillar too. 

Vigorous rain drops assault the doors of his balcony. They crash against the glass like a hail of insults- distorting both reflection and the outside view. Walking closer makes Shuichi's slippers hit against the wooden flooring, but he's too caught up in how water is pouring down the glass to notice. Each of the soft slaps are drowned out by the rain. 

Then the loudest, absolutely deafening, noise that Shuichi has ever heard in his life cracks down from the sky. 

Shuichi bangs into the couch as thunder booms and lighting races across the sky in frenzied strikes. His heart pulses in tune with both, and soon he's watching the wind near rip his tarp into the sky. Yet the weather calms just as the man springs forward. The growing bruise on his hip begins to throb mockingly. Pale skin collides with the door, one hand splayed flat and the other fumbling for the light switch.

By the time he's outside there's nothing like torrents of water blasting down on him. No, mere drizzles that tap against him and his balcony. It smells like the storm itself is waiting to come back though. He stares at the bright blue tarp and walks over to it. Truthfully speaking and with all due respect, Shuichi hasn't felt so motivated in years. Almost as though he's gone back in time to when he could do anything at all. Even with the man having some sleeping issues too. 

He's having just a bit more fun being alive these days. 

Of course… It feels like reconnecting with the old him. A Shuichi that wasn't obsessed with Danganronpa. 

It's something that has him grabbing the tarp and peeking under it. Gold eyes squint before phone light reveals something distinctly odd. 

Shimmering, glinting, a gem like chrysalis hangs from where Ouma spun that cocoon. A pang of genuine fear breaks through his confusion. The man grips his phone tighter. Replacing a cocoon with a chrysalis is impossible though. Blinking, Shuichi’s eyes spot scraps of dull brown cocoon just barely still attached. He can only assume that this is how things are supposed to happen. Maybe the wind got under the tarp after all. 

Moments later his eyes narrow just as they spot something moving-

"Saihara you idiot, there's a damn weather warning!" Momota's voice growls. Shuichi quickly disengages from the tarp and turns towards his neighbor. The other man looks worried and absolutely pissed. 

Awkwardly fidgeting, Shuichi coughs while realizing that he's getting damp from the rain. Thunder booms as if just behind the man but no one laughs when he jumps. Shuichi almost tries but can only avoid Momota's gaze instead. He glares at the few remaining plants that aren't under the tarp. Going back inside is what he should do, Shuichi should ju-

Blindingly loud white. Lightning blooms across the sky and makes his skin crawl as it does. Wide eyes stare vacantly as the rain picks up again. 

"I was asleep all day and never looked at the news. My phone," the man trails off while cold water begins to pour down on him. "Sorry. I'll just go in because I'm definitely stupid, ah, but why did you…?" 

Gold darts over to survey a still displeased face. Momota's expression looks almost stern. It's strange and has Shuichi sifting through his memories for reasons. Why would someone like Momota care about him? They have nothing in common at all. Social class, interests, life experiences or anything other than happenstance; Shuichi can only assume that nothing more than time spent together has changed. Like their rare but almost comfortable conversations. 

Even though Shuichi tries to time things so that those don't happen. 

"Storm watching is almost as fun as watching meteors. Or whatever. Weather is interesting too man," Momota sighs, before looking at what he can of the plant covered balcony. 

He groans, half grimacing, "Let me put those inside for you, Saihara."

"Wait, you mean like going into my apartment… and then uh. Uh? Okay!" 

They stare at one another before both scramble inside. Shuichi has little precedence for random acts of neighborhood kindness. He just doesn't interact with the people who live next to him. It's outlandish and nerve-wracking to let Momota into his place, to watch Momota observe the emptiness of his home. A nice apartment with great amenities, location, and good size. Families are better suited to living in Shuichi’s abode. 

But then, Momota and his muscles live alone too. 

Gazing at Momota as he brings everything in all by himself is probably unsubtle. Shuichi indulges while huddling under a fluffy towel. 

"You didn’t have to do that. I could ha-"

"Cut the crap, you haven't gone to the gym even once in your life."

Shuichi watches Momota put down the last tomato plant. He's suddenly even more unsure of whether he wants to slap the man or suck his dick someday. Perhaps dick slapping is in their future. The man considers it and quickly decides that maybe CBT is going too far. Momota has just saved his caterpillar. 

"Get out of my apartment now, cow," he mutters. Mauve eyes shoot him an incredulous glare, but Shuichi stands firm by looking at how his spare tarp is saving the floor. "Also th-thanks for this whole thing."

Momota grunts and drips water onto the floor, lips twisting in amusement, as his hands run through damp hair. God even his wrists look sturdy and buff, Shuichi thinks. He has never felt quite this bisexual in his life. Over a man's God damn wrists. And the muscles of his arms which tense like they are to remind him that, yes, Shuichi is both lusty and out of shape. 

"Right so I'll give you some of the tomatoes soon, as thanks!" the man eagerly chirps, getting up and corraling his guest out, "So thank you for the hard o-oork, work, but I don't want to get d-octors! Visits because I hate them."

Practically slamming the door on Momota's concerned face isn't a point of pride. 

That said, Shuichi forgets his embarrassment by the time he's dry and in bed. Masturbating in the shower tends to have that effect. Hopefully it doesn't count as cheating on Kirigiri, but he mostly considers that as a joke. Kirigiri will own his heart forever. Him even. 

Shuichi goes to sleep without remembering the sight of human limbs inside of a pearlescent chrysalis.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shuichi is a disaster and we are establishing things... 👀💦 ho(e) boi


	3. Hatch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A month passes after that rain storm. Things change, thing stay the same, and Shuichi might be about to get some concrete answers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man I wonder what this chapter could have?!

"Ouma, you are the weirdest possible..." but Shuichi only narrows his eyes while staring at the chrysalis. Gem-like, elegant with an almost man-made shape, and carrying a strange creature inside. 

A mystery is growing on his balcony. Shuichi takes a long sip of coffee. The Italian dark roast is sufficiently loud as he stares. Unfortunately for him there's no noir aesthetic. He's merely outside, squatting, and hoping that he's not going insane at 5 AM. Nothing in his panicked searching has turned up anything for 'butterfly with human arms'. It's a distinct possibility that Shuichi is going off his metaphorical rocker. Like an ant running around the top of a lampshade. 

Things have been like this for a while.

Just one additional month full of incredulous and mildly fearful side-eyeing. Not that Shuichi has ever once considered ceasing his Dangan Ronpa narration. Oh no, those continue well enough. 

"Dude... Are you talking to your tomato plants? No," the other man around begins. Shuichi turns to see an incredulous Momota staring at him. "You named your tomatoes something like king horse?!"

Shuichi can't exactly talk about how his bug friend might be an illegal experiment, because that's insane and also he hasn't decided on that story yet. Which means that he eventually blurts out a wheezing, "Talking to plants is healthy."

It's a true yet weak protest. 

Momota's mouth almost twitches open. Yet he remains silent and almost seems uncomfortable. They stare into one another's gaze to the point of discomfort. Breaking eye contact is easier than usual though. Shuichi finds that he's less scared and more embarrassed. To begin with as well, and it's odd that meeting eyes with Momota is becoming increasingly okay.

"Honestly, it's not a bad thing so much as surprising. I only just named my fish after years so," Momota shrugs and gulps down some of his own coffee. 

Not that he made it, Shuichi did after the guy handed his mug over the gap of their balconies. He hears the sound of Momota's slippers scuffing the tiles. A sigh, to which Shuichi glances to find a smile. Gold eyes continue to dart around the tomato plant. Each leaf looks healthy, and there's indeed not a hint of issues. No brown spots, no strange mildew, and no unwanted pests. Ouma is welcome after all. 

Pale fingers gently adjust the small camera that serves to watch the chrysalis. It cannot be stated enough that Shuichi might be mildly obsessed with his pet. Soon to be not pet, but the man doesn't want to consider that too much. 

Eventually he stands up and goes to sit in his own chair. The painted white metal holds him comfortably, but he keeps his mug in hand. Instead, Shuichi leans on the matching table. 

The two men continue to drink their steaming beverages while watching the sunrise.

"Right... It's almost time for work at 6:45 because fuck. Seeya later man," Momota softly groans, making Shuichi struggle to check the time on his phone. 

He privately thinks that his neighbor could stand to sleep in just a bit longer. But then again, the man isn't too forthcoming on what he even does. Shuichi considers asking for a handful of seconds, but he just ends up watching the other man head inside. Pretty much everything about Momota is atypical. From the clothing he wears to the way he talks. 

If Shuichi were still a dickass teen then he'd probably ask why someone like Momota is living in such a pricey apartment complex. 

Fortunately, for everyone, Shuichi is no longer a total shitter of a snooty rich kid.

This kind of curiosity is best left in a ditch. Asking something so loaded is borderline cruel. It would be like pointing at Momota and saying he shouldn't be here, Shuichi once again decides. None of anyone else's business... 

Shuichi stares at the last few backwash filled sips of his coffee for a few minutes. Then, quietly, he gets up and pours it over the railing of his balcony. He idly watches it become nothing but a miniature splash against the pavement. Almost colorless in the same way that things are in the dark. The man frowns before glancing back over at Momota's balcony doorway.

This kind of curiosity is best left in a ditch. Asking something so loaded and borderline cruel. It would be like pointing at Momota and saying he shouldn't be here, Shuichi once again decides. None of anyone else's business... 

Shuichi stares at the last few backwash filled sips of his coffee for a few minutes. Then, quietly, he gets up and pours it over the railing of his balcony. He idly watches it become nothing but a miniature splash against the pavement. Almost colorless in the same way that things are in the dark. The man frowns before glancing back over at Momota's balcony doorway.

It would be bad to outright ask. Still, Shuichi wants to know more about Momota. He's just not sure what to think about the guy. What the man is slowly learning though, about Momota, isn't bad though. A light breeze blows by as Shuichi leans on his railing. Maybe they can hang out beyond chilling on their balconies. Like at a coffee shop or- 

A flush makes its way onto Shuichi’s face. He doesn't even need a mirror to tell that it's there. 

Liking Momota isn't what this is. No, definitely, and absolutely not. Shuichi merely finds the man to be a stupid sexy asshole.

Stupid… solidly muscular but not overly buff piece of man meat. 

"Uuugh!" Shuichi spits, turning straight around and marching back into his own apartment. He passes over the living room with its tempting couch. Instead he walks right towards the kitchen and quickly sets up for breakfast. 

Omurice will set his head back on right.

He spends maybe half an hour cooking while listening to Momota get ready and leave. Mere hints of noises and sounds. The walls are not actually thin in this building. 

But the omurice does not actually make Shuichi feel completely better. Neither does tending to his garden. Even getting a much needed shower doesn't rid him of that nibbling feeling that wants to eat his ribcage. The water relaxes his muscles and helps him calm though. He simply doesn't want to have a genuine crush on anyone. So instead of doing anything else, like thinking about it, Shuichi decides to take a nap.

Just a hint of awareness is how pressure on his shoulder draws him in. Towards a dream or towards consciousness, Shuichi isn't sure. He's vaguely cognitive in a way that gets the man thinking, wow this happens a lot now. Everything has been keeping him stuck in a strange cycle of waking early, taking a fruitless nap, and going to sleep late.

Not nightmares and yet not dreams in the slightest. 

A hand gently pats at Shuichi’s shoulder before settling closer to his neck. The weight is barely there and still makes him stir. Whether he's lucid or not doesn't matter, not when Shuichi's lot in this remains the same either way. One gentle finger runs itself down his neck. It feels like something well and truly frozen. 

So cold that you're too numb to process it.

"You aren't that great at lying, huh..." someone says just above his ear, crouching over him in a way that clearly takes advantage of how Shuichi sleeps on his side. "But both of you seem to be going just fine, so it doesn't matter. I'm actually kind of happy."

Breath hits against pale skin in short bursts. Shuichi struggles to open his eyes, as if that would ward away his visitor- to no avail. It seems as though his nighttime phantom is never scared by eye contact even so. To say nothing of how the man himself can't get his eyelids to budge. He can only stay half curled and morbidly curious.

Hot puffs of air spread goosebumps as the person rests against the crook of Shuichi’s neck. Again the voice of a young man murmurs, into skin, "Hey. Pretty soon I'm not going to be the me around anymore. Just like I wanted, but not as intended. You understand what that's like."

It's an assumption.

One that gets stated like a fact, and Shuichi has the dread inducing idea that its correct. He has no idea what it means. Perhaps he simply doesn't want to acknowledge it though.

"I really do mean it when I say that I'll be happy though. Both of you will end up being fine," the dream apparition trails off, his voice nostalgic and wispy. After just a one more breath there's the feeling of teeth. Like sewing needles, the tiny pinpricks aren't human in the way they tease Shuichi’s flesh. He himself merely grumbles and shifts uncomfortably. 

There's no feeling of pain or even of blood. Shuichi’s eyes crack open before swerving to stare at a head of black hair. 

One purple eye flicks over to meet his gaze. It feels familiar the same way that it always does. A chilled hand slowly slips under the collar of Shuichi’s shirt. The ghost that the man always forgets has changed. Instead of a school uniform there's a black v-neck, sleeves nearly covering pale palms. Sturdier and yet frailer with a baby face making that handsomeness blend in with cuteness. 

Shuichi watches this construct of his subconscious smile into his skin, and pull back while licking pale lips. He sees how that marble column neck moves with a gulp- and Shuichi wishes he could bite down too. 

"Dreaming of fake vampires... Is annoying," Shuichi quietly remarks moments later. He stares up at his plain white ceiling with a blank expression. Then he smacks his face with both palms and grouses, "I'm not even getting to have wet dreams about the pretty vampire guy! Shit, fuck, what's the point of a vaguely sexual half-nightmare unless I get hard too?"

He groans and slowly rubs his eyes. It's not like the man can actually remember those dreams well. Of course not, they're strange and twisted things that fade within moments. All Shuichi can say is that they have a progressively hotter guy in them. Plus the creepiness, but also he can remember a lot of neck kissing. 

Gold eyes narrow into angry slits. 

A nonexistent man is making Shuichi lose sleep. Typical, even if Momota is alive and thus existing.

The man pushes himself up while yawning. Shuichi just needs to go out and do something fun. Going to watch a movie might work. Dreams are just responses to stimuli, and that's... 

Flopping back down onto the couch is not therapeutic. Today is simply one of the days where Shuichi feels stuck. Getting up and tending to his fansite sounds lukewarmly dreadful. Leaving the apartment is an idea that makes his chest feel tight, and his heart pulsing with anxiety. Shuichi can't even gather up the strength to grab his phone. 

It's not actually the fault of some interrupted sleep. No, Shuichi is supposed to be getting better like he promised.

Maybe he should just fap a bit. 

Rain drops begin to splatter against the balcony door. Shuichi can see them, light but growing heavy and fat. He soon notices that the goosebumps on his skin aren't just from his dream. The room has a far lower temperature than normal. It must have dropped due to the weather, Shuichi figures. 

Eyes foggy with sleep abruptly widen when something solid collides with glass. Another, another, tiny hail pebbles join the rain in the attack.

More of the stuff belts down with loud thunks. Some of them are sharp. Few are drowned out by the surely freezing rain. All Shuichi can do is grab at his phone and soon find a weather advisory. Panic jolts up past otherwise blanket-like anxiety. That's when he shakily swipes, taps, and gulps into the app for his Ouma Cam. Kirigiri greets him with a nonchalant nod. 

Shuichi views the feed just in time to see a small hail chunk collide with the tomato stalk. Only a few inches above where the chrysalis hangs. He can barely see how limbs are fidgeting inside of it. Pearl colored, with lines of black of purple- Shuichi’s mind stops when he notices it. His heart does soon after. 

Even as the hail seems to temporarily abate too. 

There's no way for the man to ignore how Ouma is attempting to hatch.

And even then… 

In what way can Shuichi ignore the possibility of the most exciting thing in his life do something like die? 

He fumbles his way off of the couch. Nearly slipping onto the floor, confused and full of maligned adrenaline. Ouma isn't a normal kind of bug, something about it is strange, and caterpillars don't work that way; Shuichi knows all these things well enough. Search engines exist and it's not hard to find out that butterflies don't take months to emerge. 

Needless to say, neither have human limbs either. 

Shuichi forgets his slippers. He forgets about anything like socks too. Clothing is not a priority as he once again slams into his balcony door. The things is thrust to the side and the outside rushes in. Nostalgia likewise hammers into Shuichi's body just like the frigid water soaking him to the bone. It takes less than a second for his teeth to chatter. 

Violently is all he can call it. The man forces himself outside and scrambles forward. Hail and rain await the bottom of his feet, wet socks squelching with each frenzied step.

"Ha... Hhh," he shudders, passing pots and ignoring the furniture. Sunlight struggles to escape back heavy grey storm clouds. 

This time there will be no Momota to kindly and silently do all the work for him. 

Kneeling down in front of that one and most important plant feels like swimming in the ocean. Heart racing, chest tight, Shuichi’s vision is being forced into a fishbowl. Even his hands are twitching the way overheated oil spits. It's too loud with all the rain screaming against the building. The hints of hail assaulting walls and glass and endless water dancing on the balcony-

Plant leaves as well, and all Shuichi can do is swallow down the way his shivering body is begging him to hide. But it's demanding something else from him. Especially deep inside his brain while the rest of him is trapped staring at familiar foliage. 

His chest heaves as a certain kind of dizziness takes hold. Taking care of things is impossible. All it is too, really, it's just a bug. Ouma can't possibly be more than a bug. Shuichi is pretty much just going insane, or maybe the man is dreaming. Nothing about this can be happening. 

Shuichi stares vacantly and wonders what the hell he's doing. Of all the times to get this way…

Grudgingly, he acknowledges that there's stinging in his eyes. But then he forces his lead heavy body forward. His mind is buzzing and empty at the same time. But Shuichi can't say that he's useless. Aren't there people that joke with him, isn't Momota getting more and more like a friend, and Shuichi holds onto those while his body moves without him.

Tomato plant leaves are normally rough. Interesting to pet or rub for a while. Maybe that was why Shuichi bought them. Course, but smooth in a bumpy way. He doesn't actually favor the taste of tomato after all. Shuichi simply saw them and eventually got fed up enough to buy them. 

It's when his fingers pull back enough of those interesting leaves and fuzzy stalks that Shuichi pauses again. His nearly numb digits ghost across a smooth surface. Wet, of course, and the chrysalis is thrashing violently too. It's hard to understand what Shuichi’s eyes are seeing. Not to mention believe it either. He doesn't know what to do about or think of the tiny person in front of him. 

Only that this must be Ouma and that Ouma looks absolutely desperate. 

From that observation there's only the feeling of watching something happen while it does. Hands close in around the chrysalis, and two purple eyes glance over with so much confusion and fright that Shuichi chokes. I'll help, Shuichi wants to say despite his landlocked floating, but instead the sight of curled up wings makes him squeak. 

Limp, but they're nearly glowing with how iridescent they are. The same exact kind of mother of pearl color as always. Ouma wriggles as a hand rests itself under him. Shuichi at least thinks that his, that the fairy is…

"I'll help you! Just let me think of-" but the whines and tries to wiggle put again, looking down at Shuichi’s hand and instinctively trying to reach down with his own. That really is the only answer that Shuichi needs. 

His still hovering hand plunges down towards the small opening in the chrysalis. One finger maps out each smooth section, before Shuichi frantically chips away at it with his nails. Something about it all niggles at his brain. But the man doesn't stop until his ripping the fragile shell open. Rain water pelts down all around them, and Ouma gracelessly falls like a little ball into Shuichi's palm.

They're both so cold that Shuichi flinches. After than he yelps from a stone of hail chipping one of his pots. He doesn't see it, but Shuichi definitely hears it. 

Both of his hand cradle a clinging Ouma as Shuichi’s body slowly returns to the door. First he stares, then he blinks, and then the man is standing inside as ice water pours off of him. Nothing feels real except for the tiny person hanging upside down from his hands. Miniature fingers dig into pale skin. 

All he can do is listen to noise. 

Exhausted and lost, Saihara Shuichi falls to his knees as the balcony door slides itself shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ouma in on the scene but also 
> 
> Never help a moth or butterfly out of their little bio hammock. Seriously, you can Google why but just don't even consider it. The story will explain and uh... Spoilers. Just saying.


	4. Emerging

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of a climax.

The first thing that Shuichi does is laugh. He looks down at the shivering creature clinging to him, laughs, and then shivers himself. Not a bright or cheerful one though. It takes what feels like hours to get up after the barking thing escapes him. Everything is so loud yet muddled that Shuichi can't even feel himself. Still, the man struggles his way towards the bathroom. 

Normally he doesn't flinch at the sound of his own footsteps. 

Except that it's more than that, because the weather and Ouma's softly ragged breaths are haunting him. So Shuichi rips open the doors blocking him from the bathroom. Though it's more like he elbows them open. 

"I'm just gonna- towel!" the man wheezes, but the fairy does move. Shuichi gulps, because this is definitely something like a fairy, and finally stops moving. 

Ouma slowly uncurls from a ball of weakness and limbs. He still clings like a bur though. In fact, the creature wraps his arms and legs around one of Shuichi’s arms in order to hang upside down. The man has no idea what his life even is anymore, but that's fine enough. Shuichi walks over to the nearest towel and bundles it under one arm. Plush, aquamarine, and good at drying. 

But both of them are soaking wet and that requires more than one towel. Grimacing, Shuichi slowly removes his pants and socks. The wet fabric squishes like a soggy tissue- his own sensory punishment. 

A pair of pajamas should be set out for the night in Shuichi’s bedroom. He shudders and tells himself that their time will come. 

Golden eyes dart down, curious and worried, only to find gossamer wings slowly moving. Shuichi pauses in his attempt to unbutton his shirt. He almost forgot that butterflies need to expand their wings. Panicking must have done that, and the thought nibbles away at his brain. The man frowns before sniffling, giving up on removing his shirt. Instead he grabs another few towels and goes to work. 

What feels like an hour passes before both of them feel dry. Still, it passes in an almost frantic silence. They stay in the bathroom, where the noise of the storm is faint, and Shuichi carefully attacks himself with the towels. He rubs at Ouma’s body as well though. Ouma eventually stops shivering and flinching as much. 

Hopefully because Shuichi is doing something right. It's not hard to avoid touching the fairy's wings after all. The things are only just starting to fill out. 

But the bathroom itself is rather cold. Shuichi finds himself working the towels around his shoulders, and dabbing at Ouma. It's a strange and surreal kind of comforting for him. All this time, he's been both ignoring the truth and hoping for it. For a special thing to happen in his life. 

Shuichi doesn't speak until he feels grounded again. Likewise, Ouma stays just as silent. 

They're both in the living room by then. It's definitely not the kind of thing you can rush. Wings need to finish expanding before a butterfly can move. Shuichi can't imagine that changing for fairies. Both of them remain in the bathroom until Ouma is finished. 

A numb arm is absolutely worth it. 

Of course, Shuichi is also full of questions in addition to lingering emotional distress. Waiting a while before returning to the living room can't change that. Thoughts haunt him. Ones like, 'Can you be sure that a bug person is a guy just because they don't have boobs'? 

Shuichi paces and shivers while his mind scrambles itself. The fairy is once more cocooned, but now it's because of a fluffy hand towel. Another violent chill runs its course over Shuichi’s body. Like all the nerves in him are both dead and still screaming. He eyes the puddles on his floor before going back to pacing. It's hard to ignore that the mans hair is still wet though. 

Getting up and managing to grab towels with a clingy little creature on your hand and arm is impossible. To learn that firsthand is something that Shuichi can barely understand. Yet here he is, tiny red marks from sharp fingernails dotting his right hand. Also his somewhat bleeding right arm. Fairies seem to have indiscriminate claws. 

He can remember, in perfect clarity, the surrealism of watching small and limp wings slowly expand. 

Everything about his grip on reality has just been turned into a fragile plate. One that Shuichi has been trying to pretend won't get thrown into a brick wall, but here he is. Here they are with all metaphorical shards paused in the air. The man has spent all this time trying to ignore the facts. While treating everything like a game too. But Ouma is real, and Ouma is staring at him. 

Shuichi has never been so terrified in his life. Not even when he was a young boy, watching Dangan Ronpa for the first time. Just the same, he has never been this hopeful in his life. He's never scratched his way up to this level of self-consciousness. Everything inside of him is rioting, from his tight yet cavernous throat to his empty stomach. The full and swollen heart trying to squeeze up his esophagus too. All he can fathom or comprehend is the twelve inches of humanoid fascination staring back at him.

Running through his mind is one selfish thing. 

I want more of this exhilaration.

Which breaks the moment that the fairy looks away. In that moment all Shuichi can do is try to swallow down the scraping feeling. Even so, it still itches against his ribcage like fingernails against a chalkboard. The man grabs at the towel around his neck. He glances away, but the kitchen and everything else holds nothing.

"Are... A-are you okay?" Shuichi asks, praying for his body to calm. Then he smiles something with his teeth bare. A snarl that slowly wilts into a lopsided twist, and eventually settles as a stiff curve. Laughing awkwardly, Shuichi starts to dry his hair again.

The fairy says nothing in favor of peeking further out from his own towel. Ouma almost looks like a porcelain doll, except a fully proportional adult human in miniature. Not exactly unfamiliar for Shuichi even if it's different. 

"I mean... Well I just mean that, you know. Actually, what's your name?" he nervously questions.

With that last word comes an affronted look. Glossy and dark purple hair curls around a finger, "You shouldn't ask that, and don't need to. I've spent a while hearing you."

Shuichi giggles out some wheezes at that bluntness. He rubs his damp hair harder and shudders. Gold eyes soon grow wide, because Ouma must like the name Ouma. Maybe the fairy has outright adopted that name. It's like the world's strangest ice breaker. Despite that, Shuichi finds himself frowning a little bit. 

"Ouma is more of a last name," he murmurs without thinking.

"You can figure out something else too," Ouma says. Their eyes meet and the fairy eventually stands. He, though Shuichi should really ask, allows the hand towel to drop. Purple eyes scan the room as he continues, "Hey-" 

"Yes!?" is the returning squeak.

Meeting gazes, that tiny face smiles warmly in a way that makes Shuichi's heart vanish. 

"Thank you for helping me. If one of those things had hit me I might... Well, I'm grateful. But I don't know how to fully repay you yet. And," the fairy pauses and thins his lips. 

He reaches around to his back and thus his wings. The things look like a mix of several insect wings, but that's not what Shuichi is focusing on. Ouma frowns minutely as his wings idly move. Purple meets gold once again before the man politely looks away.

"I cannot, currently, fly. So I will not be able to repay you. Perhaps it was the sudden weather, or I simply emerged earlier than intended due to it. Because I cannot think of other reasons..." Ouma finishes with a grudging tone.

Stiff. Ouma’s speech is stiff and awkward. It's pitifully relatable for someone like Shuichi to hear. But that's not why the man is looking away. Actually, nothing that Ouma has said is embarrassing to that extent. The reason why Shuichi just decided to look away is far worse. He doesn't really care about repayment, at least not right now. Shuichi doesn't have wings or magic to begin with after all. 

No, the problem is that Ouma is naked. Shuichi didn't really notice it before due to the overwhelming feeling of dying. There's no clothing, and also no anything- but that just makes it more awkward. 

Gold eyes drift back towards a completely featureless groin. 

"That's fine! I mean you are nudity, you're nude? Which is. The not flying thing is uh, nope you're good. Uh," Shuichi stares vacantly into Ouma’s just as blank gaze. 

Complete and utter silence fills the room. It feels like he's just ruined everything ever. Honestly, this is probably Shuichi’s own fault just for looking. Maybe Ouma has been trying to ignore it too. Shuichi giggles weakly as Ouma’s expression morphs into one of confusion. For a moment there is only more quietness to fill the empty room. 

"What? I don't understand why there is a problem," the fairy asserts. He then falters before speaking again, "Fairies do not have some need for clothing like humans. Don't worry about it."

"Don't worry about it?! But you're naked-" 

Ouma tilts his head and squints, "You were undressing earlier."

"I didn't want hypothermia and that's the only r-reason why, please cover yourself!" Shuichi begs, bowing over on instinct, and the man winces at the shrill hints in his voice. There's no way that he can outright say that Ouma looks like a living Barbie doll. Rudeness like that is reserved for Momota, or something. 

A grumble comes from Ouma's general area. Shuichi has no idea due to staring into the floor. He feels so crude, and like he's ruining any warm hospitality for the fairy. 

"Humans get discomforted by strange things after all. You told me about many things that are abnormal, but you're concerned with this? I will not get caught by frigid weather again regardless of garb. Still, I suppose…" Ouma trails off. 

Just a single gold eye peeks open and sees that Ouma has wrapped the towel around himself. 

Shuichi slumps over from relief. 

He's certain that there's some kind of cultural difference at play. It makes sense that a fairy wouldn't care about nudity, at least in Shuichi’s mind. But the fact remains that Ouma is naked. Even if there's nothing but a smooth, near featureless, and pristine groin- the man groans weakly. 

Both the fairy and the human wait in silence, and something eats away at Shuichi’s mind. He's still so hyped up from earlier though. It's nearly impossible for him to actually think. All he manages is sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. Of course, Shuichi can't blame Ouma for being quiet. 

God, Shuichi is awful at navigating other people. 

"I… am not some house fae. I am not 'domestic' in any form," Ouma slowly murmurs. Shuichi glances over at him, and feels guilty about the somber expression he finds there. "And I cannot wear a towel forever either." 

"Then I can buy you something! Or I can-"

"Have I not stated that I am not domestic? I am not some brownie to be paid in cream and clothing. For me as of now, I need to live among nature. That is in order to sustain myself," the fairy spits, speaking rapidly and with a passion that is soon explained. 

Shuichi can't even find words to use. The idea of Ouma dying slaps him, and it makes his yellow-gray eyes grow wide and his mouth fall open. He can't fathom the idea of dying. Not like this, so soon after joining the world and especially not after how Ouma did so. Being unable to live, being simultaneously stuck, Shuichi can't process that kind of situation. 

"Make it. I'll make you something myself, or I'll just make something in general- but for now it's fine! I'm sorry…" the man says. A jumbled mess that makes him cringe. 

Ouma squints at him before lowering the towel down to his hips. It makes the man gulp, embarrassment rising just at the sight. But in the end there's no choice but to accept that a fairy being naked doesn't mean much. At least, that's what Shuichi tries to tell himself. Maybe Ouma won't accept anything like clothing at all. Shuichi’s chest aches from the awkward visions of seeing exposed fairy butt each day. 

Well, at least the potentially nudist fairy won't stick around forever. 

Except that thinking that hurts even more-

"Borrowing such garments will be fine. Just know that I will not accept anything purchased, and that for the duration of my time here… I will try to repay you for the clothing still. I do not want further debt!" Ouma stalwarts exclaims, his face scrunched into a serious pout. 

"Ah, honestly I don't think that you even need to repay me?!" Shuichi hesitantly says while gripping his own towel. Chuckling nervously, he ruffles his own hair as the loud rain makes him cringe. "It's just that I would have helped you no matter what. The reasons might not be too great, but I didn't do it because of payment."

A soft and speculative gaze rests upon Shuichi after that. Purple eyes drift from his slumped shoulders, to his still trembling hands, and they stare into his eyes in a way that doesn't make the man feel like bugs are crawling down his back. Shuichi’s breath falters as an odd fondness colors Ouma's growing smile. 

"You insult me greatly."

Shuichi’s wheezing echoes throughout his apartment. 

"But I think that is because you are not unkind. It is a fine insult, when it comes from you!" Ouma soon explains, eyes closing while his head nods. 

Ouma stands up and stretches, pale skin yielding to a healthy flush, "There is that I am tired, I fear. Saihara as well, you seem very tired due to your actions… or perhaps other things. All I may ask is that you make what you wish, offer it to be borrowed, and provide me with hospitality until I may leave."

"And you'll come back?" the man asks while swallowing down his fears. 

Truthfully, Shuichi isn't sure why the ache is getting so personal. He never expected something like staying. Butterflies don't stay around long once their wings are working. Now that Ouma is a person though, one right before him, the man isn't sure how to feel. Saying goodbye and watching Ouma be stuck are both awful. As Shuichi’s thoughts rotate though-

Something is eating away at Shuichi’s mind, and his heart. It's a subconscious sort of thing that haunts him. Without even knowing what it is too. 

"I would not consider leaving to never return. Once I do, I will spend with you three days and nights to make merry. Do not worry," says the fairy, wings flicking, "Going to the Faerie will not make me forget you. Even after I give you gifts, a feast, and such! You will be remembered."

It's that which ultimately ends their conversation. 

Ouma comes off as confidant that everything will turn out happily. Sure, there's moments where the fairy gets quiet and pensive. Where his wings, and yes his because Shuichi did ask, try to flare up into prismatic displays- only to leave him still grounded. It's those moments that make Shuichi’s guts churn. He hashes out some plans to buy more plants, but hopes. 

He hopes that his fears won't come true. Even if those fears are ones that apply to any result. Perhaps Shuichi can ask for his reward to be companionship. For Ouma to take him away from this boring world, and nothing more than that. 

Dangan Ronpa is half the reason he's alive in the first place. Now that the show is gone… 

Listless, the man finds himself staring into the LED light of his phone. Pale fingers idly swipe through twitter while gold eyes watch nothing at all. It would be so easy to just open up an episode and watch it. But it feels too strange to watch Dangan Ronpa alone now. The experience of watching it, narrating it, sharing it with Ouma; Dangan Ronpa feels wrong to watch alone now. 

Another scratch sinks into an emotional chalkboard. Shuichi’s fingers freeze while his bleary mind chugs along. 

Earlier was like experiencing an action scene. Only not, because thought is put into those scenes. For an action scene to be good there needs to be quite a bit of effort. Shuichi hadn't tried, not really, but his body and brain had been forced into working anyway. Knowledge and expertise had nothing to do with him saving Ouma. 

Shuichi’s lips part while he stares into electronic light. 

He's laying down on his stomach, half slumped onto a long pillow that could fit most dakimura. The only reason it hasn't come to bare a Kirigiri is due to indecision. A comfortable and yet discomforting position. Shuichi’s hands hold his phone while simultaneously supporting. Yet inside, in all the ways that matter, Shuichi is descending. 

The brain inside of his skull is starting to function properly. Which leads to his twitching fingers beginning to move. Shuichi watches them tap and tap, feeling empty and scared. 

In his search bar glares the thought he hasn't allowed himself to have. 

A singular question to which Shuichi glances away from the potential answer of. Still, the man hits the search button. 

'Should you help a butterfly hatch'? 

Nausea builds up inside of the man's stomach. It creeps up into his esophagus, his throat, all while Shuichi’s shoulders start to spark with crawling. Just crawling little pin-pricks with no mercy, on him. Even in him, gnawing against his sternum. 

Golden eyes slowly glance back to see the results. 

The answer is no. 

Part of him wants to say it out loud just because to think it feels heinous. Like admitting a sin, yet to state it in his own voice is just as bad. Shuichi tries to console himself with other possibilities. There's a chance that he's wrong. Ouma could be right about why he can't fly. It isn't set in stone due to Ouma being a fairy. 

Wings. 

A fairy whose wings… 

You should absolutely never try to help a butterfly emerge from its chrysalis. Gold eyes read this fact over and over, surveying different sites. The phone drops from motionless hands, its owner blank faced. 

He dares not speak for fear of being heard. And yet still does the thought chase after him. It nips gleefully at his heels, each bite full of self-loathing, reminding Shuichi that nothing he does is without malice. Shuichi can't even deny that he knew this. All he had to do was remember what he's read for weeks. 

Each time that he gains an opportunity to do something good, it's like this. 

Shuichi might have crippled Ouma.

**Author's Note:**

> Shuichi: I'll kill the bug that ate my tomatoe plants!  
> Also Shuichi: oh no its pretty  
> Caterpillar Kokichi: HUNGER ABATED


End file.
